"They may have some other kind of pie." Allison grinned.
An eager light came into O'Malley's eye. "Sure, and that's a thought worth rememberin'," he muttered.
The mess at Croydon was a large room and had a phonograph as well as a console radio. There was a nice assortment of old but comfortable chairs and lounges, and there was a counter where food and drinks were served. The three members of Red Flight arrived at the mess about the same time.
O'Malley saw the counter at once and his eyes lighted eagerly. Back of the counter were shelves and on one of the shelves sat a half-dozen pies. A Wing Commander and a Squadron Leader were leaning against the center of the counter. Allison was for barging on past without disturbing the superior officers, but O'Malley had his eyes on the pie shelf.
"Shove in, me hearties, the treat's on Mrs. O'Malley's son."
O'Malley shoved in beside the Wing Commander with Stan and Allison facing him.
"Tea," Allison ordered.
"Coffee, black," Stan said.
"Pie." O'Malley said it hungerly.
The corporal behind the pie counter fixed Allison's pot of tea and poured Stan's coffee, then he turned to O'Malley.